


Blank Spaces and Teenage Dreams

by Steel_Drums_and_Island_Dances



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cheerleader Armin, Drag Queens, Eremin - Freeform, Featuring Eren as your friendly neighborhood fuckboy, Gender Fuckery, I know much more about cheer than sports, M/M, Pastel Armin, Sexuality Crisis, Underage Drinking, bad pop music, can someone please explain the rules of rugby, heavy on the friendly, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steel_Drums_and_Island_Dances/pseuds/Steel_Drums_and_Island_Dances
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren is a rugby player with few friends and fewer aspirations, when he meets his own personal pastel teenage dream Armin Arlert. Only Eren's not gay. Or lesbian. Or... what do the other letters stand for again? </p>
<p>College AU where no one actually goes to class, and the rules of rugby are conveniently skipped over, but outfits are explained in detail. And everyone is queer. (I mean everyone)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I’m Eremin trash
> 
> So um this story has a lot of elements from my time being co-president of my high school’s gay-straight alliance, I guess. That was a little while ago, of course, but back in the day we got a couple of really sweet and really confused kids coming in and asking us questions. I was kind of the club’s mom more than the organizational guru, plus I’m pan so I understand a couple sides of the whole who-what-where-is-my-sexuality thing, so there might be a bit of that. There will also be porn later so the rating will likely change. Yeah. 
> 
> My first fic posted on ao3. God help me

Eren had never been big into parties. High school parties weren’t his thing—bad music, cheap beer, and bad vibes—and he was fairly sure he couldn’t expect more from college ones. Nah, give him a good concert with a mosh pit anytime. Nowadays they cost about the same anyway, and it took far more time to get kicked out of a concert than a party where everybody already knew you’re the kid who likes to start a fight when he’s drunk (or sober, for that matter).

But he really had no excuse not to go to this one. A couple weeks deep into the semester with only a few rugby teammates to call his friends, he honestly didn’t have anything better to do on a Saturday night, unless playing 7 hours of FIFA counted. Which it did, for about 3 weeks. But he figured a change of pace wouldn’t hurt, and a guy as nice as Marco couldn’t possibly run with too rough a crowd. (On the other hand, Reiner and Bertholdt were also apparently part of said group, and Reiner was the living definition of rough, but Bertholdt seemed nice enough.) Marco was the only one of his teammates he could say he’d gotten really close with, and he felt he could trust his taste in friends.

“Everyone’s really chill,” Marco was reassuring him as they walked over to what tended to be the louder side of campus. His unconvincingly casual voice sounded more as though he were reassuring himself. “And my partner’s coming too, so…”

Eren had never heard anyone refer to their girlfriend as their ‘partner’ before college, and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It sounded half like they were assigned to work together on an elementary school project and half like they were running a law firm, in his opinion. But anyone Marco was dating had to be sweet. Probably gentle and quiet, like Marco himself, Eren imagined.

The dorms at Trost University were more or less indistinguishable from each other. All had the same industrial feeling and inadequate climate control. It was a chilly September night, though, so they hopefully wouldn’t have to worry too much about overheating in the stuffy dorm rooms.

“Marco!” Someone was calling in an impatient voice, and by the way Marco’s face lit up, Eren was willing to bet it was his so-called ‘partner.’

“Hey! We’re not too late, are we?” Marco answered, voice immediately brightening. He ran ahead of Eren, whose step had faltered in shock.  _That_ was Marco’s girlfriend?

“It’s ten o’clock on a Saturday night, people are still getting out of bed,” Marco’s girlfriend snarked, nearly spit, rolling her eyes. She stood firm, thin hands on thin hips, in equally stick-thin stilettos. Her shoes made her tall enough to look down her nose at her boyfriend, which she did, imperiously. Meticulously maintained honey blond tumbled down her shoulders. She was undoubtedly beautiful, but _loud_ , police siren loud, in bright red sequins and black lace, her thin, red, shapely lips pulling down at the corners in a scowl, blush high in her cheeks and smoky silver painted over her eyelids. An impeccably penciled brow raised over feathery lashes as she asked suspiciously, “Who’s this?” in response to Eren’s presence.

“This is Eren, we play rugby together,” Marco explained with a smile.

She gave him a dismissive once-over before turning smartly on her heels and marching back towards one of the dorms. Marco caught one of her hands as she turned, squeezing it and saying “You look, amazing, by the way. As always.” His said this so sweetly and sincerely that Eren blushed right along with Marco’s girlfriend, though she looked more irritated than anything else.

“Sh-shut up,” she muttered. “You’re such an idiot.”

Eren followed after them, legitimately baffled. How on earth had Marco ended up with someone like that? Gentle, freckled Marco? He didn’t mean to be judgmental, but something about the twist of her mouth just screamed high-maintenance. He usually disliked that phrase too, but couldn’t think of any other way to describe the snobbish lift of her chin, the razor-sharp glance of her eyes, or the impatient huff of her sighs as Marco spoke.

And Marco—that poor guy. He was a goner. He looked at her with a sort of raw, desperate happiness Eren had seen few times in his life. He’d heard that they were childhood friends, though, maybe that explained it.

She led them into a dorm on the second floor, at the end of the hall. The lights were dim but still on. Admittedly, it was still a bit early for a party to start. There were already a few people in the room, but they looked like they were still getting ready, and the music was only a low thrum. One girl leaned over the futon where two others were sitting; she folded dark, lanky arms over one blonde girl’s shoulders, resting her head on her chin. The first blonde on the couch was chewing on her lips and fiddling with what was likely the playlist for the evening. The other blonde was carefully screwing the cap back on to a bottle of nail polish, blowing studiously on her fingertips and asking “Krista, would you open my compact for me?”

“Sure—oh, hey Marco!” The first blonde turned around, large, worried blue eyes softening as she caught sight of him. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. This is Eren, by the way, he’s on the rugby team with me.”

The others turned to face him fully, and Eren’s heart toppled and teetered and tripped right into his stomach when he caught the eyes of the second blonde, wide, curious, and briny blue. Hadn’t he just been talking about how Marco was a goner?

“Nice to meet you,” she said, and Eren could barely choke out a response to the words from that rosy pink mouth, a little sparkly like someone had sprinkled sugar on it.

“Armin, your hair is a mess,” Marco’s girlfriend—Eren hadn’t caught her name—said in a businesslike tone.

“Seriously? I just straightened it,” she—Armin?—whined. Eren had no idea what they were talking about. The sunshine-colored strands floated around her heart-shaped face like a halo and he couldn’t find a hair out of place.

“Step into my office,” Marco’s girlfriend smirked, and Eren watched them go more than a little forlornly.

“So you’re on the rugby team?”

Eren turned back to the others, smiling at the first girl, Krista. “Yeah, hope it’s okay that Marco brought me along.” His smile faded slightly at the hooded, hostile eyes of the girl behind her.

“So you know Bertholdt and Reiner then, right? They should be coming too,” she continued cheerfully. “This is Ymir, by the way.”

Ymir offered a stiff nod, which Eren returned hesitantly.

People began coming in small groups, livening the dorm slowly but surely, especially at the arrival of some short bald kid and his motormouth girlfriend. Eren sought Marco again before long, trying to act casual. “So who was that blond girl sitting on the couch before?”

“Krista?” Marco grimaced. “She’s taken, very taken. Did you meet Ymir?”

“They’re together?” Eren asked, surprised. That would explain the nasty look.

“Yeah, and they’re serious. Not a good idea.”

Eren shook his head; he was off topic. “That’s not even who I meant to ask about, I meant the other one.”

Marco frowned for a moment. “The other—oh, you mean Armin!”

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing’s _funny_ , it’s just that Armin’s a guy.”

Eren choked. “What?”

“I’m a guy.”

Her—well, his, Eren supposed—mild voice sounded from behind them, and as Eren turned to face him, he felt like he believed it even less. The person in front of him was too pretty, too charming, too soft to be a guy. He was wearing open toed sandals, for heaven’s sake. His toenails were painted violet, for heaven’s sake.

“Eren, right? I’m Armin,” he held out a slim hand that could have been a drawing, and Eren almost worried that the he’d break it when they shook. “Do you want a drink?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He needed it at this point, seeing as he was dangerously close to crushing hard on a… guy? Was he really a guy?

“Beer, right?” Armin gave him a quick once-over, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth now. Eren glanced down self-consciously at his old soccer jersey, but found nothing out of place.

“Sure, thanks.”

Armin caught sight of someone across the room and ran off to greet them at that point, so Eren was free to address Marco again, confirming, “He’s really a guy?”

“Really, really.” Marco’s eyes had that same appraising look now, and Eren only understood it less. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” Eren answered, slightly confused.

Marco looked like he was about to say something else when his girlfriend stormed over, looking royally pissed off. Eren figured he’d better let well enough alone at that point.

It turned out that she was angry about the arrival of Reiner and Bertholdt, who along with several other members of the rugby team, were struggling to carry a keg up the narrow staircasel. Eren decided to give them a hand. The team ordinarily would’ve been more than capable, but were buzzed from pregaming and lacking the necessary sense of direction.

On second thought, though, encountering your already drunk teammates when you’re still sober, and worse, a freshman, was never a good idea. Eren realized this too many beers and an ambiguous amount of time later. He wasn’t drunk though, he decided. Definitely not sober, but probably not drunk.

He’d shook himself free of a headlock and dodged the keg before sitting down heavily on a couch to take it easy for a moment, but nearly had a heart attack realizing who he’d so ungracefully seated himself next to.

“Don’t look so terrified,” Armin’s pretty pink mouth let out a measure of soft laughter. “I don’t bite.”

“Armin,” he said his name carefully. Armin giggled again.

“Ye-es?”

Eren frowned a little. “Are you really a guy?”

Armin’s smile faded, but his voice retained its carefully mild tone. “Yes, I am.”

“Are you one of those guys that wants to be a girl?”

Armin’s mouth thinned a little. “I’m not trans, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So you’re… you’re just…”

“I’m a guy who wears mascara and paints his nails.” He supplemented calmly. “Does that freak you out?”

Eren thought about that for a moment, before answering, “No.”

“No?” Armin sounded surprised.

“I think you’re really pretty,” he blurted out.

Armin gave him a sharp look at that, but as Eren met his eyes with a steady gaze, a faint shade of pink crept up his neck and he looked back down. His mouth opened and closed once. “…Thank you, Eren.”

Eren paused. “I didn’t mean to be rude, I’ve just never met someone like you before,” he tried again earnestly.

“Someone like me?”

Eren backtracked again. “I don’t know, someone who just… does what they like?”

“A lot of people do that, I think,” Armin said, but he was smiling again, and Eren could feel his ears warming.

“Armin!” Krista crashed into the back of the couch, cheeks bright red and voice an octave higher than it had been an hour ago. “Get up, you drunk slut, they’re about to play Toxic!”

Eren blinked but Armin was already gone, congregating with Krista and a few other girls in the middle of the room. They did their best to hustle other partygoers out of the way, but barely anyone noticed them, even when Krista called out in a surprisingly clear voice, “Ready? Okay!” Then she giggled, and called less clearly. “Also, no stunts, guys, like, duh. You know that. Oh my god. Okay! Ready? Okay!”

The song had already started and everyone was a little out of sync, but all the breath left Eren’s lungs when he picked Armin out of the messy row, or more importantly, Armin’s hips, rolling in perfect circles in time with the heavy beat and whiny voice.

“Oh, yeah, Armin’s on the cheer squad with the rest of them,” Marco’s voice reached Eren’s voice as though he were sitting at the bottom of a well. “They’re pretty good.”

Pretty good. ‘Pretty good’ was what Eren said when he ate a cold hot dog. ‘Pretty good’ was a day where he didn’t beat someone unconscious in high school. Eren called himself ‘pretty good’ at FIFA, which he played several hours a day and still lost to Marco every time. Armin’s smirk and the arch in his back were anything but ‘pretty good,’ or ‘pretty,’ or ‘good.’ They were filthy and disgusting and the most confusing things Eren had ever seen in his life. 

“Yeah,” he agreed at any rate, swallowing dryly. “They’re pretty good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren begins to get to know Armin and Jean is a dick, as usual. And there is no homo whatsoever. Absolutely none.

Eren woke up the next morning slowly to the unpleasant woozy ache of a hangover. He rolled over in bed, noting impassively that he was still wearing last night’s clothes. The previous night’s events took a minute or two to come to him, but when they did, his breath balled in his throat just like last night, remembering the cheer squad’s impromptu rehearsal at Marco’s friend’s party.

He groaned a little, also recalling how he’d probably made a damn fool of himself in front of Armin, especially while talking to him on the couch. But then his shy smile came to mind—maybe Eren hadn’t completely fucked up?

What exactly was he worried about fucking up, anyway? Armin was a guy (albeit a very pretty guy) but Eren was straight. He assumed. He really wasn’t sure how this stuff worked. If he were gay, shouldn’t he have had some kind of huge revelation by now? Pierced a few things, started going to gay bars, hating conservatives even more? Mikasa had talked to him about this kind of stuff before—in fact, she had come out to him as asexual, but that talk focused on her, obviously. To be honest, he still didn’t really understand all that either. He had trouble grasping how it related to anyone but someone Mikasa was dating, which made it even more confusing when people said rude things about her. It made it very simple to punch those people, though.

Either way, there was nobody to explain to him how he was feeling right now. He was probably just confused. Armin was so… pretty, it would confuse anyone, right? Or maybe he was just Eren’s type. He’d never thought he had a type before, but maybe Armin hit the nail right on the head.

He scowled. This sort of deep shit was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about first thing in the morning, let alone hungover. He wouldn’t worry about it. He might never even see Armin again. His heart twisted a little at the thought.

Dammit, he knew he never should’ve gone out last night. He never got this confused over FIFA.

He dragged himself out of bed, checking the time on his phone. 11:00. He could shower and still make it to lunch. 

Eren’s dorm was made up of primarily athletes, so there were a lot of singles and, and in the doubles athletes almost always roomed together because of similar sleeping schedules. He’d mostly elected to live there because of the higher chance of not having a roommate, and he’d gotten his wish. Marco lived down the hall with a baseball player named Franz.

Eren stumbled down the stairs 15 minutes later, hesitating in front of the door to brace himself for the sunlight sure to negatively affect his headache. As expected, the sunlight flooded in when he yanked the door open. Unexpectedly, standing there bathed in sunlight was an angel.

He blinked. The angel smiled at him, that same slightly shy one from last night. “Oh, hey Eren, we were just looking for Marco.”

We? Eren blinked again so the light wasn’t quite as blinding. Standing next to Armin was a taller guy with a bleached blond undercut, the darker brown roots showing. He had an oddly familiar scowl on his face.

“We’re supposed to meet for lunch, if you’d like to join us,” Armin continued. The morning light suited him absurdly well. He was wearing an oversized light blue shirt that showed enough of his collarbone to make Eren’s throat run dry. What was _wrong_ with him?

Marco appeared behind Eren then, slightly breathless.

“You’re late, Marco!” the other guy said testily, and the irritated tone was exactly the same as Marco’s girlfriend’s from last night, but…

“Sorry, sorry, got caught up with Franz,” Marco apologized, reaching for the cranky guy’s hand. To Eren’s surprise, he took it, and pulled Marco ahead of them slightly.

“That’s not, uh…” Eren began eloquently.

“That’s Jean,” Armin said. “You guys met last night.”

Armin’s eyes were a bit wary again, so Eren just nodded in response. It was really none of his business, anyway.

“He can be a bit of a handful, but he’s not a bad guy,” Armin continued.

“Yeah, I figured anyone Marco’s dating can’t be too bad,” Eren rubbed his eyes with one hand. They set off after the pair, Eren trying his best not to glance repeatedly down at Armin’s pretty neck. How could a neck be pretty, anyway? Every part of him was pretty. He was wearing pink goddamn ballet flats. “So, you’re on the cheerleading squad?” He asked, partly to distract himself.

“Yup,” Armin gave a little smile.

“How’d you get into that?”

“Always wanted to do it, but the cheer coach at my high school was a jerk who wouldn’t even let me try out,” he huffed. “College is different, though. Our coach is great and the whole squad is really nice.”

“Why cheer, though?”

“What else is there for a blonde with nice legs to do in these parts?” Armin smirked, and Eren had to agree with him about the legs. “But in all seriousness, I’ve always wanted to do it. I did gymnastics as a kid, and had always wanted to dance, and cheer was both of those combined. The attention from the football players is just a bonus.”

Eren suddenly found himself wishing he’d chosen football over rugby. He used to get into fights with members of the football team in high school, though, and so thought rugby would be best when he got into college. But the idea of Armin cheering him on from the sidelines—and would he be wearing a _skirt_?

“That last part was a joke, you know,” Armin said, looking sideways at him, and Eren realized he had fallen silent.

“I know!” He said hastily. “I was just thinking.”

“So why rugby?” Armin prompted.

“Good way to blow off steam.”

“So is cheer.” Armin laughed at the look on Eren’s face. “I’m _kidding_! Haven’t got much of a sense of humor, have you?”

“Do too,” Eren muttered, but Armin just snorted.

“So just to blow off steam? No deep-seated passion for sports?”

“Nah, I’m not really one of those ball-is-life guys. I just like something I can lose myself in.”

“Like a book?”

“No, like… something that gets my blood pumping.”

“A book can do that.”

“Didn’t peg you for a bookworm.”

Armin shot him a grin. “What, since I’m blonde I can’t read?”

“Well… yeah,” Eren grinned back.

“Well, if we’re judging by appearances, you look exactly like one of those ball-is-life guys. No offense.”

“Offense taken. I’m extremely intellectual.”

“Can you even spell ‘intellectual’?”

Were they flirting? Eren wondered dizzily. He’d never been very good at that sort of thing, and that was when he knew he wanted to be flirting in the first place.

They reached the dining hall, and Ymir and Krista were already sitting at a table together, so they joined them. Armin went to sit beside Krista, and Eren attempted to slide in next to him, but was beaten there by Jean. Eren was liking him less and less.

Sitting across from Krista and next to Marco brought to mind their brief conversation from last night. He must’ve been blind not to see that Ymir and Krista were together, honestly. It didn’t especially bother him. What did, for some reason, was Krista herself. He stared hard at her, ignoring the wary eyes of her girlfriend. By all means he should be attracted to her—assuming his type was cute blond cheerleaders with big blue eyes. And sure, she was cute, but it was nothing like the feeling of his heart banging on his ribcage for release when Armin’s sharp, clever glance caught his. Armin’s eyes were almost a little frightening, even when they didn’t catch Eren looking his way. They gave the impression that he was carefully cataloguing all the goings-on around him, storing them away for some purpose or later analysis. Eren couldn’t imagine why he’d be doing that, and that only frightened him more.

After eating they split up, and Eren once more unsuccessfully attempted to be casual with Marco. “So, do you usually hang out with them on the weekends and stuff?”

“Yeah, usually,” Marco said absently.

“Let me know if you all hang out again sometime soon?” He asked hesitantly.

“Sure." 

Eren wasn’t sure how to get his intentions across, mostly because he wasn’t very sure what they were in the first place. At any rate, spending a bit more time with Armin couldn’t hurt. That was probably the best way to figure out just what he wanted.

Monday came, and it was much easier for him to not think while doing mindless drills at practice. It was more difficult when faced with classes or meals, when his mind could wander and make him worry about stupid things like whether or not he should add Armin on facebook. He nearly had a heart attack in bio when he saw his profile picture for the first time. It was of him and Krista, side by side, puckering their lips at the camera. They were wearing what must be the same damn pink lip gloss from the party last weekend.

Tearing his eyes away from Armin’s pursed lips, he decided it wouldn’t be too weird if he added everyone else he’d met that weekend too. He found Ymir, Krista, the bald kid Connie, his girlfriend Sasha, and even Jean, though he doubted he’d accept the friend request.

Krista and Connie accepted within seconds, and Eren fretted for a full two hours before Armin accepted as well. He would’ve been fully satisfied with that alone, when he received a text from Marco containing even better news.

_A couple of us want to hang out after the football game on Friday, if you’re interested._

He responded immediately. _Sure, what time?_

_Do you want to come to the game too?_

Not especially… but then Eren recalled that Armin was on the cheerleading squad, and felt his interest in football—along with his tolerance for its players—miraculously increase.

They decided to meet after dinner at 6:30 on Friday. For once, Eren was grateful for morning practice. Unfortunately, though, when the day did come, Jean was waiting for him along with Marco. He openly sneered at Eren’s approach. Looked like it was going to be a long night.

They got to the stands and managed to find decent seats, since it was still a bit early. The cheerleaders were still stretching; Eren scanned them a little too eagerly. Krista caught sight of them and ran over to say hello, but Armin wasn’t with her.

Just a few minutes before the game was set to start, Eren saw a few more cheerleaders run on to the field, and _fuck_ , there he was, face a little pink and pom-poms in hand. Eren let his eyes drop down, and damn if Armin hadn’t been spot on about the nice legs, even nicer out of skinny jeans and in that tiny pleated skirt. His calves were thin but surprisingly sturdy, leading up to smooth thighs that supported hips capable of all sorts of movement, Eren recalled, his throat suddenly dry again.

Armin spotted them and waved, and Eren could feel his ears flame in response. He tore his eyes away only to meet Jean’s, who was staring at him with no small measure of suspicion. Eren could feel his face burning now, too, and did his best to focus on the game.

It was damn near impossible, though, especially when he could so easily pick out Armin’s clear voice calling cheers with the rest of the squad. Every time he caught a glimpse of them, he’d see flashes of pale thighs or a sweetly smiling profile… It was the longest game he’d ever watched, longer than the nerve-wracking judo matches of his sister, even. He couldn’t wait to escape Jean’s persistent stares and the tight, breathless feeling in his chest from watching Armin all evening.

But it only got worse when they went back to the dorm together, especially since it wasn’t a party this time, just a small group of them sitting together and having a drink. Eren managed to sit next to Armin this time. Some of the cheer team and football players had come along as well, so it was lively enough that hopefully no one would notice that Eren had only been speaking to Armin all night.

“There’s no way in hell you’re a neuroscience major.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Armin asked, giggling.

“Everyone knows blondes can’t count past ten.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a neuro major in the psych track  _and_ an English minor.”

“ _What_? When do you sleep?”

“It’s all about managing your time,” Armin said, a bit smug. “And lots of coffee.”

“I barely have time for rugby and general ed requirements,” Eren said grumpily.

“You have morning practice, right?”

“Yeah, but sometimes I go to the gym in the afternoon for weight training.”

Armin blushed suddenly. “Yeah, I… I think I’ve seen you there once or twice.” At Eren’s questioning look he stuttered again. “I-I mean, cheer has practice in the afternoon, right next to the weight room, so…" 

Eren watched curiously as Armin stammered himself into silence. In Eren’s opinion, there was nothing special about himself at the gym, unless you counted the sweat and the stench. But Armin, normally a quiet but confident speaker, was suddenly stumbling over his words and looking quite harried.

“Do you want another drink?” He asked suddenly, picking up Eren’s cup without waiting for an answer and hurrying away. Eren made to follow when he was stopped by a tap on the shoulder. It was Jean, mouth set in a tense line.

“Have a minute?”

“Sure,” Eren answered, guarded.

Jean turned and walked them into a corner, where the others hopefully couldn’t hear quite as clearly.

“Do you have some kind of problem with me?” Eren asked bluntly. He’d always been a bit confrontational, and something about this guy got under his skin.

“Quick on the uptake, for once,” Jean sneered. “Just what do you think you’re doing with Armin?”

“What?” Eren said, a little too defensively.

Jean was looking at him, unimpressed, with a hint of those appraising eyes Eren had really been seeing too much of these days. “Armin is a person with feelings, you know,” his eyes narrowed. “So if you’re feeling _confused_ , then try experimenting with, say, a porno mag? That’s probably about as much action as you see in a week.”

“Excuse me?” He could feel his pulse speed at Jean’s veiled accusations, ones that hit a little too close to home. A curious feeling mixed in his stomach unpleasantly, a combination of anger and embarrassment.

Jean sighed as though greatly burdened. “Armin is a _guy_ , if that hasn’t managed to pierce that thick skull of yours. So the next time you’re popping a boner over him in a skirt, try to keep that in mind, yeah?”

“I wasn’t—” Eren broke off, furious. “I know he’s a guy, so—”

“So no homo, right?” Jean interrupted.

Marco’s partner or not, Eren was more than ready to punch this guy in the face when a quiet voice came from behind him. “Jean.”

Jean immediately backed off at Armin’s tone, but couldn’t seem to resist shoving roughly past Eren as he returned to Marco’s side. Usually that alone would’ve set Eren off, but the idea of Armin overhearing any part of that conversation had his heart slipping around the bottom of his stomach. He looked down nervously to gauge Armin’s expression.

But Armin just smiled, handing Eren his cup. “Good to see you and Jean getting along.”

“What is his deal?” Eren muttered angrily.

“Don’t worry about it, he just doesn’t mesh well with many people.”

Neither did Eren, but ordinarily those type of barbed words would make him violent, not awkward and ashamed. His eyes wandered to Armin’s neck yet again, watching the soft motion of his throat as he drank. He looked away, feeling even worse. He really was as bad as Jean said, wasn’t he?

He tried to shake the conversation from his mind and enjoy talking to Armin, but every time he found himself looking, or laughing, or letting the sound of Armin’s laugh wash over him, he remembered Jean’s pointed questions. _Just what do you think you’re doing with Armin?_  

He’d love to know himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for stopping by again! And THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE KUDOS it's so good to know people are actually enjoying this nonsense <3 Makes me want to flesh out more of my fic ideas haha
> 
> Anyway, next chapter should be up sometime soon so pop by again if you're interested


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren questions and answers and questions again, partly thanks to Jean, and partly thanks to his penis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes, is that a rating change? i hope the author didn't add anything inappropriate

“Eren, that’s enough.”

Eren shut up at the tone of his sister’s voice. He swore she had a sixth sense for whenever anything was bothering him. He’d just been thinking about calling her when she texted, asking if he wanted to skype. Upon seeing her face, serene as always, he felt even more rattled by comparison—Mikasa always had her shit together, and while just seeing her face gave him some measure of comfort, it also reminded him of the literal wreck he was compared to her, even without crises of sexuality. He’d babbled for almost ten minutes when Mikasa interrupted him in her you’re-done voice. “What’s the matter?” 

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure how to phrase it, or even where to start. “Well… I’ve been hanging out with this new group of people lately…”

“Okay.”

“And one of the people in that group…” He chose his words carefully. “Is… really pretty…”

“Oh,” Mikasa’s eyebrows raised, but then her face softened. “That’s great, Eren. What’s her name?”

“No, that’s just it—um—fuck—” He paused, frustrated. Maybe a different angle? “Mikasa, how did you know you were ace?”

She tilted her head slightly. “Why do you ask?”

“I dunno, lately I’ve been feeling…” He trailed off, sighing. “The person I was talking about is a guy.”

Mikasa’s eyebrows went up again, but she said nothing.

“He looks kind of like a girl, so I thought I was just confused, but even though he’s a guy, I think I still like him?”

Mikasa was still silent. Eren began to talk a little faster, nervous. “I mean, I can’t be sure of course, we only met a few weeks ago but I just really like hanging out with him, and I can’t stop staring at him sometimes, but he’s pretty girly, like he paints his nails and stuff, but it just kind of works for him? And there’s this total asshole named Jean who keeps pissing me off, but he dresses like a girl sometimes too, and makes even less sense—”

“Eren,” she cut him off again. “Is this your first time?”

“What?”

“The first time you’ve ever felt this way about a guy?" 

Eren paused. “I think so,” He bit his lip. “But, maybe more like the first time I’ve felt this way about anybody?”

She nodded. “And how do you feel about being physical with him?”

“I-I dunno,” he could feel himself turning red at the question.

“Have you thought about it?”

“Not like that!”

“I wasn’t implying anything,” she was smirking a little now, which was annoying but also reassuring. He knew she wouldn’t react badly, but had worried a bit all the same. “But I think you should consider the idea. If you’re straight, or ace, you probably won’t like the idea very much. But if you do, then you can go from there.”

He considered that.

“Of course, there’s also a chance that the idea isn’t too bad but you won’t like it in practice. But that’s a topic for another day.”

“Okay,” he said gratefully. Mikasa was making sense, as usual. They talked for a little while longer before Eren was left alone with his thoughts.

He’d thought about Armin a lot. It had been a few weeks since the football game, and he’d managed to see him a few more times, usually with Marco’s group of friends. Said group often unfortunately included Jean, who tended to bristle with irritation in the background. Whether this was at Eren’s audacity to continue associating with Armin, or just Jean’s usual state, he wasn’t completely sure. But he did know it wasn’t enough to prevent him from stopping to talk to Armin for a few minutes between classes, or better yet, grab lunch together. He could usually catch him on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and as they’d spent more time together, Eren had gotten better acquainted with Armin’s surprisingly sharp tongue.

“Really, Eren? Timbaland boots?” He’d greeted Eren last Tuesday, eyes glittering with mirth. “Aiming for that promotion at Fuckboy, Incorporated?”

Or worse, whenever he asked a stupid question, Armin would tease him, saying, “Just do yourself a favor and go back to the gym, _Brad_.”

The worst was when they were with other people, and Armin would say something like “He’s cute but not too bright, huh?” And Eren couldn't stop the blood from rushing to his face.

And damn, if Armin being a little sassy didn’t just make Eren like him more. But not just sassy—Armin was so _smart_. Whenever the conversation turned to academics, Eren was forced to listen in near-silent admiration as Armin spoke. Eren had once made the mistake of asking about one of Armin’s lectures. The resulting barrage of information had lasted over 20 minutes and left his head spinning, but it was worth it to see Armin emit that level of pure excitement. That was the only real time Armin’s eyes paused in their tireless observation and looked straight into his. It was almost overwhelming to have all that attention so suddenly directed at him, but oddly thrilling, and never failed to make Eren’s heart race. 

The whole thing was starting to become a source of minor stress, in fact. He’d never had a crush this bad. But being physical with him? He had barely been able to shake his hand. 

But his hand had been absurdly soft. As soft as his legs looked, especially those thighs, peeking out from the hem of his navy cheer uniform. Or his lips, always painted with something sparkly and never chapped like Eren’s own. Kissing him didn’t seem like a bad idea at all. And if his hands were soft, how soft would his legs be? What would it feel like it Eren’s fingertips skimmed the hem of his skirt? 

He’d probably blush, if Eren did that. He wondered how he’d sound. His voice, so quiet and tempered, how loud could it get?

The image flashed into his mind unbidden. Armin, warm and soft, blushing, in his lap, wearing that—Eren swallowed—godforsaken skirt, so Eren could easily slide his hands up from his knees, to his thighs, to his ass. Armin wasn’t wearing anything underneath in this daydream, and that suited Eren just fine, surprisingly. Just the idea of having his hands full of Armin’s ass had him standing at attention. 

Armin would flush so prettily, too, and lean in, and Eren would finally be able to taste his mouth. He groaned a little at the thought. His lips were always so smooth and sweet-looking. What sort of noise would Armin make if Eren sucked on his pretty bottom lip, and maybe bit it, until that pink turned rosy red? Or if Eren pulled him close, so he could mark up his spotless white neck, which, now that he thought about it, would look even better bruised and bitten. All of Armin would. Eren had always been a bit rough—you had to be to play rugby—and this kind of situation was no exception. He could imagine winding a hand through Armin’s soft hair, and pulling, not too hard, but just enough so that his neck was bared. He’d pull him flush against his stomach and bite along his collarbone, slowly, so that maybe Armin would shiver, then work his way up to his ear. Where would he be sensitive? Eren wondered. He’d take his time finding out, until he had Armin rutting against him in his lap, as Eren pulled him closer by his thighs…

Eren looked down at himself. Okay, so clearly the idea of a physical relationship was fine with him. Did that make him gay? Was it as simple as that? He’d never really thought about it before. He hadn’t been attracted to very many people, and never this strongly. There had been a few fumbling hookups here and there in high school. But if he was being honest, the idea of touching somebody else’s dick wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be.

Especially not Armin’s.

If he said that didn’t send all his blood running south, he’d be a bald-faced liar. It was an oddly provocative thought, considering how damn feminine Armin looked. But Armin was a guy. Armin probably jerked off just like Eren did.

Well, not _just_ like Eren. Armin looked too clean, too delicate, to angrily whack one off in the shower, he thought.

Oh, fuck, but what if he _did_? What if he curled against the wall of the shower, one hand braced against the tile, and the other gripping himself in hand, water _running down his neck_ as his free hand went to his mouth to muffle his moans? Maybe he’d bite one of his slim fingers, caught up in the moment. He’d screw his eyes closed, and let out soft, stuttered breaths just this close to sobs. Even doing such a dirty thing he’d still be clean and delicate. Eren imagined the water collecting on his eyelashes. Maybe he’d tilt his head upward towards the spray of water, and let a little wet his face, drip over his mouth, down his chin. Eren groaned again at the image.

Or maybe, outside of the shower, on a bed… Eren reached into his pants, a little shamefully, picturing Armin on his back, biting his lip, chest rising and falling shallowly. And his soft hands with those ridiculous purple nails, one hand curled in the sheets beneath him and another twisting around his dripping cock, his thumb smearing precome over the flushed head. His breath would start to come faster, and his blush would spill down his neck, God, Eren loved how that looked. He’d start out hesitantly but then speed up, until the tips of his fingers were glistening with his arousal, and _fuck_ , Eren would pay to see that. He imagined Armin’s hips jerking upward, and him whimpering softly at the feeling of thrusting into his hand. His free hand might drift across his chest to his nipples, and what _color_ were they? Were they sensitive? Would Armin cry out if he worried them between his teeth? Maybe he’d arch off the bed—Eren remembered the perfect way he arched his back that one night, and fuck, now he was remembering the way Armin could move his hips, he bet that would feel amazing in his lap, skin against skin…

Eren came with a groan, hard, faster than he had in a while. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but best not think too much about it. 

Well, now that he had ascertained that he definitely wasn’t opposed to dicks, least of all Armin’s dick, the only question now was to figure out how to go about this. Eren was a straightforward kind of guy who didn’t do things by halves, so his first instinct was to simply pull Armin aside at the next opportunity and tell him. But then he thought about it, and about Armin, and his soft smile and measured voice. He seemed like he might appreciate something more… thoughtful?

Eren wasn’t very good at thinking. He was good at doing, and he was pretty sure he wanted to do Armin. But he did want to do things correctly. He wasn’t sure how the whole dating thing would work—was it different with guys?—but he’d give it his best shot.

He stretched, figuring he ought to clean himself up and get changed. Today seemed like a good day to procrastinate by going to the gym instead of doing homework, or worse, thinking any more about his problems. With an hour or two before dinner, he decided to head out.

He caught sight of Jean and Marco on the way to the gym. Ordinarily he would’ve waved but the idea of interacting with Jean on even a minor level had him gritting his teeth. What did Marco _see_ in him?

He recalled briefly the first night they’d met, Jean towering in heels and sequins. Trying to figure the guy out made his head hurt. Good thing it was leg day, the world was too confusing right now.

The weight room had one wall made of glass, so the muscleheads could flex whenever someone passed by, he assumed. Eren stubbornly refused to place himself in the same category as them, working out with his back facing the window. He did that a lot, to be honest—separating himself from others for no real concrete reason. He’d always had few friends, until high school, his only friend being his sister, disliking most other students and the way their friendships seemed confusing and conditional. He and Mikasa had an incredibly strong but simple relationship, and that was the way he liked it. So it was quite foreign to be on an actual sports team with members who seemed to want to get along with him, genuinely. Even stranger, Marco’s group of friends was slowly becoming his group of friends. 

And Armin was worming his way into Eren’s heart alarmingly fast.

He’d never had the opportunity to think much about all this gay-lesbian-whatever the hell the other letters were-stuff. When Mikasa had told him she was ace, he thought about it a little, but Mikasa was one of the most important people in his life and that left no room for argument about his opinion. Besides that, it really didn’t concern him, to the extent that he was a little surprised at first she’d felt the need to mention it at all. But he’d understood later. It was an important part of who she was. Either way, he’d never liked the way he heard other people talk about those types of people. It reeked of the same stuff as racists, in his opinion, and he’d had more than enough of that, being adopted siblings with Mikasa.

He did realize that he looked much more like someone who would speak against that community than for them. That was probably why Jean seemed to hate him so much, and everyone in Marco’s group joined in on the fuckboy jokes. It didn’t especially bother him, but what if Armin thought he was a bigot, too? He honestly didn’t know too much about sexualities and things like that, but asking questions in the right way was almost more difficult than the topic itself.

He let the weights on the machine drop a little too hard, now sweaty on top of frustrated. He said he wasn’t going to think about all this, dammit. He was here so he didn’t have to think about his life. If he was thinking then he clearly wasn’t in enough pain.

He’d increased the weight on the machine and sufficiently managed to push all thoughts of Armin and Jean and Marco and Krista out of his mind for maybe 30 minutes when a voice called his name from outside. He turned around, and of course, there was Krista, waving frantically. More importantly, Armin was standing next to her. They were both wearing exercise clothes, but oh _no_ , Armin’s hair was up in a ponytail, and Eren was pretty sure he was going to die.

Krista was beckoning him over, and it was too late to pretend he hadn’t heard. He swallowed a grimace and jogged outside to meet her. Both their faces were a little pink, probably from practice, but Armin’s was fast turning a disquieting red.

“What’s up?” Eren asked, noticing Armin’s eyes on him immediately. He smiled, but Armin looked away immediately—odd, because Armin’s eyes had been looking with rare terrific focus. He looked studiously at the window behind Eren now, with the same piercing stare.

“We just finished practice and are going to get dinner, if you wanna come!” Krista was beaming. “I was just about to text you and Marco anyway.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “Dining hall?”

“We were kinda in a pizza mood, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sounds great,” Eren glanced over at Armin again, who still hadn’t said a word. Was he mad? The more Eren thought about it, the scarier that idea was. He wouldn’t have any idea how to handle that.

They decided to meet in front of his and Marco’s dorm in an hour. Eren took extra care in the shower, and even smelled his clothes before he put them on. They were in the clean pile, but that could be dicey.

Eren was a little apprehensive to meet the others again, but when they gathered outside the dorm, Armin smiled at him normally. Eren fell in step beside him, relieved. Of course he looked fucking perfect. His hair was down now, with a little bump from being up in a ponytail for a few hours. He was wearing some oversized purple sweater thing as a top, and Eren couldn’t help but wonder how he’d look in one of Eren’s own shirts. It would probably slip down one of his shoulders—Eren was partial to the left one—and show nearly all of his collarbone, leaving Eren able to mark up the whole thing…

Yeah, he was fucked. Eren tore his eyes away, only to realize there was someone new with them. She was blond, too, and tiny, but her expression had all the hardened control of a soldier. Her handshake was firm and strong. “Annie,” she said succinctly by way of introduction.

Eren was slightly intimidated but otherwise didn’t pay much attention to her on their way over. Maybe ROTC? He noticed her speaking a little to Marco, which really wasn't that surprising. Marco could get along with anyone. 

“How was practice?” He asked Armin instead.

“Pretty good. Krista’s got us practicing some new stunts, so there were a couple bruises.”

The last thing Eren needed to think about now was bruises on Armin’s body. He forced a laugh, saying, “I still can’t get my head around Krista as captain. She just seems so…”

“You have no idea,” Armin muttered darkly. At Eren’s questioning look, he continued, “She’s nowhere near as fluffy as she looks. Give her a bit of power and she turns into a monster.”

Eren glanced over at her, swinging Ymir’s hand and smiling sweetly.

“Trust me. She ripped into one of the girls today for not spotting properly. I thought Mina was going to cry.”

“Sounds like she’d get along with the rugby coach.” A chill ran down Eren’s spine at the thought of Coach Levi’s expressionless face. “On second thought, I’d probably shouldn’t even talk about him. Speak of the devil, and all that.”

“I’ve heard stories,” Armin said with a quiet laugh. “But you don’t have practice on Sundays, right?”

“Yeah, that’s why I went to the gym.”

“Oh, right,” Armin flushed again, Eren noticed. His voice was still playful, though. “Your natural habitat.”

“Do you even lift?”

“You’re only proving my point.”

“Gotta get swole.”

“You’re disgusting.” Armin had this horrible habit of meeting Eren’s eyes whenever he teasingly insulted him like this, a little smirk on his face. It was horrible because it was as though Armin wanted to ensure he understood it was a joke, every time, just in case. Even while speaking playfully, his eyes reassured, so stupidly considerate that Eren’s heart spun right back up into his mouth.

They ordered, and Eren, as he had taken to doing, shoved Jean none-too-gently out of the way to sit next to Armin. He couldn’t resist giving him a nasty grin as he did so. He felt much more confident facing him now that he was sure of what he wanted, even though he had no idea how to get it. Jean glared at him but said nothing.

He was having a wonderful time that night, actually. Eren had stupidly brought up the topic of books and Armin had launched into a long-winded speech about the brilliance of James Joyce. He was pretty sure he could listen to Armin talk all night, even though he’d never even heard of James Joyce. His hands were fluttering through the air and his watchful eyes occasionally looked a little far off, but mostly looked directly into Eren’s. Apparently there was somewhere in England where you could visit James Joyce’s house and go on a walking tour through some of his old haunts, and Armin would give anything to go. By the time he paused for breath, Eren had drank a coke and a half and had to take a piss (and maybe look a few things up on his phone—how did you even spell psychosomatic, anyway?) so he excused himself.

He was stepping out of a stall when Jean entered, offering another scowl as greeting. Eren was itching to pick a fight with him, but seeing as he too was friends with Armin, thought that might put a damper on things. He was ready to hold back this time.

“Haven’t quite figured out how to keep it in your pants, huh?”

Eren slammed the door he’d been opening. “What is your problem?” He demanded. “Aren’t you with Marco? Why do you even care if I’m interested in Armin?”

Jean’s eyebrows flew up. “So now you’re interested in him?”

He hadn’t exactly meant to say that to Jean of all people, but wasn’t about to back down now that he had. “Yeah, what about it?”

Jean looked a little surprised, but not at all like he was about to back down, either. “You seem awfully sure of yourself.”

“Don’t have any reason not to be.”

“Don’t just assume Armin would be interested in someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Eren bit out. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Maybe you should ask Annie to enlighten you.”

“Annie?” Now he was confused. “What does she have to do with anything?”

Jean could barely restrain the triumphant tone of his voice. “She’s his ex.”

Eren felt like someone had filled his stomach with lead.

As though he couldn’t resist rubbing it in, Jean added, “I bet you never even considered that. That Armin could like girls.”

And he hadn’t. He’d just assumed. He’d looked at Armin with his painted nails and open-toed sandals and skirts and just assumed he was gay. At not one point in his questioning of himself had he even entertained the possibility that Armin might be straight.

“You really don’t understand anything,” Jean sniffed, leaving the bathroom ahead of Eren. And the worst part was Eren couldn’t say a word to defend himself, because it was true.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Jean’s a still a dick and we now understand the necessity to educate people about non-binary sexualities yay (and what the other letters stand for. It’d be funny if it wasn’t true)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some helpful conversations with guest appearances from your friendly gay dads Reiner and Bertholdt; Eren is embarrassed; Jean is slightly less of a dick and Armin is cute(r)
> 
> can you spot the ~subtle~ reference to the manga? lol

Eren was sitting on his windowsill, looking down at the quad, pretty sure he was slowly going insane. He’d finally managed to kind of figure things out, or so he thought, when Jean managed to ruin everything yet _again_.

Well, that wasn’t quite fair, he thought begrudgingly. It wasn’t Jean’s fault. Thinking back to a few nights ago, and meeting Annie, his heart sank even further. If that was Armin’s type, then he was seriously fucked. Annie was tiny and blonde, with harsh, striking features. Not to mention she was more than a little terrifying. Eren couldn’t emit that kind of power if he tried. He could hold his own in a fight—most of the time—but as was often the case for people known for flying off the handle at the drop of a hat, his friends rarely took him seriously when he was angry.

And then there was the whole his not-being-a-girl thing. If he was lucky, then they’d broken up because Armin had a crisis similar to Eren’s or something. But Eren wasn’t usually lucky.

There didn’t seem to be any bad blood between them, either. Eren never would have guessed, seeing them together last night. They interacted like old friends.

All of this stuff was so damn confusing. Weren’t there people who liked boys and girls, too? He didn’t hear much about them, usually. He really wanted to call Mikasa again but he’d just bitched about this to her a few days ago, and as close as they were, he didn’t want to be bothering her about the same problem every five seconds… Who did you talk to when you had gay problems, anyway?

“JAEGER!”

Eren almost fell out the window.

“Get down here, you skinny son of a bitch!”

It was Reiner, yelling up at him from the quad below. He along with Bertholdt and a few other of his teammates were gathered there, with a soccer ball and another group of guys who Eren didn’t recognize—except—

Just his luck, there was Jean, standing with them.

“Can you grab Marco? We need two more people to kick their asses.” Reiner was grinning broadly. “Just a friendly game of soccer with Trost’s finest.”

Eren was well aware that Reiner rarely played a friendly game of anything, but the idea of getting to tackle Jean was good enough reason for him. “Yeah, gimme a second.”

He ran down the hall, running into Marco coming out of the bathroom. “Hey, you up for a game?”

“Rugby?”

“Reiner called it a ‘friendly’ game of soccer, so… yeah, rugby,” Eren grinned. “With the soccer team.”

“Sure, I’m not doing anything.”

“Jean’s there too,” Eren admitted.

“Oh, yeah, he’s on the soccer team,” Marco got that damn happy far-off look on his face, as he usually did talking about Jean. Eren could barely stand to look at him.  

They joined the others on the quad, where Reiner was standing with Bertholdt and the others, a worrisome grin on his face. “I’ve been waiting all semester for this,” He said with relish. “That one hairy bastard’s been looking at me and Bertholdt funny for weeks, so fouls on him don’t count, okay?”

Him and Bertholdt? Eren watched them exchange a look, Reiner’s face glowing with anticipation, Bertholdt’s expression slightly cautioning. It was oddly… married-couple-esque. But they couldn’t possibly also be…?

He didn’t have time to think about it, because the soccer team had already running in their direction with the ball. Jean was surprisingly good, and one of the faster players, but unfortunately used to a much politer game. Eren was more than ready to handle him when he saw Marco from the corner of his eye. Jean went down much more gently than he would’ve had Eren tackled him. Jean’s perpetual scowl softened to something almost fond when he realized it was Marco, and they roughhoused for a minute. Eren turned away quickly.

Reiner, on the other hand, seemed to have it out for the player about which he’d spoken before. He brought him down hard at every opportunity, standing up each time with a nasty grin and some sarcastically encouraging words, “Shake it off, man, shake it off!” The game continued in this vein for maybe a half hour, when the sun began to set and an even deeper cold settled in. The soccer team slowly drifted apart, excluding Jean, and Eren wasn’t as surprised as he would’ve been to see Bertholdt and Reiner standing off to the side as well, holding hands. He should’ve known, really.

Throwing the ball back and forth to Marco, he found himself glancing over at them more than a few times. They were bizarrely comfortable together. Much more comfortable than his own parents, he thought. Co-captains of the team, they made an interesting couple. Both of them, especially Reiner, were a bit like Eren in the respect that they had appearances most would not associate with open-mindedness. Reiner was huge, and loud, and actually used phrases like “getting swole” and “ball is life”, which despite what Armin said, Eren only used as jokes. Bertholdt was quieter, but equally brutal on the field, and there were rumors that he was terrifying when angry. But Eren had never so much as heard him raise his voice, unless calling someone’s name during a game. And despite both of them being a little intimidating, they always seemed genuine in their attempts to get along with him. They really had made him feel pretty at home with the team.

Marco and Jean had started roughhousing again, and just being too cutesy in general—well, as cutesy as Jean got—and Eren sighed, feeling a bit like a third wheel. He glanced again in Bertholdt and Reiner’s direction. Maybe he could…

Well, now was as good a time as any.

He walked up as casually as he could to where they were standing, but chickened out a bit when they looked up. “I was wondering…” his own voice sounded almost shy. “I was wondering if maybe I could ask you guys something?”

“Sure, what is it?” Bertholdt immediately asked, looking concerned.

Eren swallowed. “Well, I have this friend…”

“Doesn’t everybody?” Reiner joked, but shut up when Bertholdt shot him a look.

“I have this friend,” Eren continued. “And he’s always been straight, but now he thinks he likes a guy.”

“Sounds like he hasn’t always been straight, then,” Reiner flinched at Bertholdt’s sharp glance again. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop.”

Eren cleared his throat, determined to go all the way through with this. “He thinks he’s always been straight, at least. And then he met this guy, and the guy kind is kind of girly, so he thought he was just confused, but it turns out he just straight up likes this guy. Like, he really likes him…”

He trailed off, and Bertholdt prompted him. “So what’s the problem?”

“Well, he doesn’t know a lot about this kind of stuff. Does that make him gay?”

Bertholdt looked thoughtful. “Well, if this guy has liked girls his whole life, then it might make him bi or pansexual, if anything. He might find out he’s gay later, but right now it sounds like he likes both.”

“Is that normal? I heard that being bisexual is like… a phase, or something.”

Reiner laughed at that. “A phase? Depends on what you think a ‘phase’ is. Can a phase be lifelong?”

“What Reiner means,” Bertholdt sighed. “Is that some people might think that they’re bisexual when they start questioning themselves, and realize that they’re gay later. But other people realize they like more than one gender, and then identify as bi or pansexual.”

“Pansexual?”

“It means you like all gender identities.” Bertholdt smiled a little at Eren’s slightly lost look. “Male, female, and other ones. Non-binary ones.”

“There are other ones?”

“Yeah, some people identify as neither male nor female, or both… But what about your friend?”

“Oh, right,” Eren frowned. “He might be bisexual, or that other one, then. But the guy he likes—he’s not sure if this guy is straight or not or whatever. I thought—I mean, he thought he was gay because he like, paints his nails and stuff. And wears skirts sometimes. But it turns out he’s dated a girl.”

“Has your friend asked him?”

“No,” Eren said, taken aback.

Bertholdt smiled again. “Wouldn’t that be easiest?”

“By the way, Eren,” Reiner looked unusually serious. “A guy can like wearing skirts and stuff without being gay, or identifying as another gender. You probably already know that, but just making sure.”

“I guess,” Eren was really out of his depth here. “I don’t get why, really, but… people do it… like Jean…”

“What about me?”

Jean had heard his name, apparently, and entered the conversation, looking cranky as usual.

“Perfect timing, we’re talking about guys who wear skirts.” Eren flinched at Reiner’s blunt phrasing.

“What about it?” Jean asked grumpily.

“Eren here wants to know why.” Reiner clapped Eren on the back. “Especially why if you don’t want to be a girl.”

Jean looked at Eren with his usual measure of disgust. “Why do you like to play rugby?”

“I don’t know,” he said defensively. “Because it’s fun. Why do you play soccer?”

“Because I like it. Just like I like dressing up sometimes.” He crossed his arms. “People always ask why I like dressing up in girl’s clothes, but that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Clothes don’t have a gender, or sexuality, and neither does makeup. Wearing a skirt or makeup doesn’t make you a girl or a guy. Identifying as a guy makes you one—and that’s it. Problem?”

“I literally never said I had a problem—” Eren began furiously, but Jean ignored him.

“And there’s zero reason why you can’t wear a skirt and identify as a guy. Gendered objects are so damn stupid—and so is gendered behavior. That’s why Armin just does what he wants. He’s the one who decides he’s a guy, not anybody else. Even if he wears a skirt and does cheer and paints his nails. It’s all arbitrarily decided stuff anyway, in some places wearing a skirt makes you ‘manly’ or whatever. None of it actually means anything, so might as well do what you like.”

“I said I didn’t have a problem with it, didn’t I?” Eren said, exasperated. “I literally just wanted to know why. I was asking a fucking question because I don’t know.”

Jean looked at him again, and while he was still scowling, if Eren’s guess was correct, there seemed to be slightly less hostility in that look now. “Well, I was answering your fucking question.”

“Anyway,” Bertholdt said. “I think you should just tell your friend to ask that guy he likes.”

“Oh?” Jean looked interested now.

Reiner grinned. “Eren apparently has a _friend_ who is confused because he really likes a guy.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Jean almost looked amused now, a strange expression on his sour face. “So he _really_ likes this guy?”

“Sounds like he’s got it bad,” Reiner said, and Eren’s ears were painfully red now as he studiously avoided Jean’s eyes.

“Hmmm…” Jean hummed, and Eren could feel his eyes on him, dammit. “I think I know this friend.”

“No kidding.” Reiner said, and winced when Bertholdt smacked him.

“Yeah… I think I might have given this friend the wrong impression at one point.” Eren looked up at that, and Jean was looking at him as he’d suspected. “I said the guy he likes wouldn’t be interested in someone like him. But that might not be totally true.”

Eren’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Jean looked a little grumpy again. “I wasn’t sure if you were just fucking around, or worse, making fun of him. I was just being careful. He’s my friend, you know, and he’s been through a lot of shit.”

“Not _me_ ,” Eren protested, face red now, too.

Jean rolled his eyes. “Sorry, your _friend_ seemed like kind of an idiot, but I guess the reason was because he actually liked Armin after all, not because he was fucking around.”

“I _thought_ it was Armin!” Reiner exclaimed. “Oh, man, just ask him out already! You’re acting like you’re trying to pick up Jean or something.” Reiner let out a shout of laughter at both of their disgusted expressions. “Come on, you guys would make a cute couple, too.”

“Does it count if one of us is dead?” Jean muttered.

Eren laughed along with them despite his embarrassment. They made a lot of sense too, even Jean, he admitted somewhat reluctantly. But Reiner made the whole asking-Armin-out thing seem a lot simpler than it was, in Eren’s opinion. How could he do it thoughtfully? And without embarrassing himself? He’d asked a few questions but keeping everything straight in his head (he winced at the pun) was difficult.

At any rate, tomorrow was Thursday, and if he was lucky he’d be able to have lunch with Armin again and maybe do some recon. On the other hand, admitting his crush to other people made it even more embarrassing somehow. The second he caught sight of Armin on Thursday, he felt himself turn bright red. Armin looked adorable, as usual, and waved enthusiastically when he saw Eren heading out of the neighboring lecture hall.

“Hey! Oh my gosh, Professor Smith gave the most amazing lecture today—are you okay?” He looked concerned upon approaching Eren. “You’re super flushed.”

Eren laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Want to get lunch?”

“Yeah. You want to go off campus instead? I’m craving some Panera.” Armin smiled at him, and Eren felt weak—at both the smile, and the idea of eating off campus with Armin, alone, because it was so close to a date.

“Sure,” he agreed as normally as he could. He just prayed they didn’t run into any—

“Well, if it isn’t Brad and Angelina.”

Fucking Jean.

“Since when did this whole ‘Brad’ thing start catching on, anyway?” Eren muttered grumpily.

“Since Armin so astutely pointed out that it matches your… lifestyle choices,” Jean answered. “Quite unnatural, really.”

Eren stared at him in confusion, before realizing that Jean was actually _joking_ with him.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Armin?” He continued in a drawl.

“Most unnatural,” Armin was smirking outright. “We really have to try to keep his type away from these parts. What happens if the kids see that kind of thing?”

“Terrible influence.”

“I get it, I get it,” Eren huffed. “I’m the C.E.O. of Fuckboy, Incorporated, my middle name is gatorade, and I have the mental capacities of a toenail clipping.”

“You said it, not us,” Jean said.

“By the way, did you get lunch yet, Jean?” Armin beamed. Eren shot Jean a glare, but Jean either ignored it or didn’t notice.

“I was just about to, actually.”

“Perfect timing, then, we’re going to get Panera,” Armin said, and Eren really couldn’t protest without it seeming strange, so they all headed off campus together.  

“Do you have time to go shopping this weekend?” Jean asked, the question clearly directed at Armin. “I plan on blinding people on Saturday.”

“What’s happening on Saturday?” Eren asked.

“That’s what I was going to say to you just now, actually—” Armin suddenly ducked his head. “Saturday’s my birthday, and Krista’s having a thing…” He peeked up at Eren. “You’re invited, if you’re not busy.”

Jean snorted. “Pretty sure he’s free.”

Eren shot him another glare before saying himself, “Yeah, I am.”

“Awesome!” Armin smiled, so brightly Eren had to look away.

“Watch out, though, Armin goes wild on his birthday,” Jean added.

“I do not,” Armin protested. “I just know how to have a good time every once in a while.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want to call your _performance_ last year.”

Eren perked up at that. “Performance?”

“Jean, shut _up_ ,” Armin hissed, but Jean was already snickering.

“We managed to get our hands on some tequila last time, and Armin really can’t hold his liquor—”

“I literally just told you to shut up—”

“And in like under an hour he was up on the table, grinding with Krista—”

“Jean, I am not below choking you.”

Armin kicked Jean’s heels, quite childishly, as Jean laughingly entered the Panera ahead of him.

Contrary to Eren’s expectations, the lunch was actually quite pleasant even with Jean as an addition. He was slowly starting to understand why Armin was such good friends with him; he could be okay when he wasn’t being a dick.

And though Eren probably had little chance of getting Armin alone on Saturday, since it was his birthday and all, he was still looking forward to it. Maybe he should get him something…? But what? He liked books, but already had hundreds. He liked pastel shit and makeup, but Eren had about as much luck picking something like that out as he did passing one of Armin’s classes. What the hell should he get him?

He was loath to admit it, but Jean would probably have a good idea of what to get him. He could swallow his pride and ask, or do his best to… think…

Yeah, forget it, Eren was not a thinker. He decided he’d have to consult his apparently-no-longer-enemy. But at any rate, he was looking forward to that party on Saturday, and with any luck, another performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter things get fun ;))))))) and also start to wind down i think! who knows how long this story will be, someone should ask the author why she's so damn disorganized (and also why she updates so slowly even though she's had things written forever i'm sorry i edit/pick at things for literally months)
> 
> also, can i just quickly mention what your amazing comments have done for me:  
> -improved my skin  
> -balanced my checkbook  
> -made me dump my imaginary man  
> -persuaded my best friend to dump hers
> 
> in other words i'm so grateful i might cry
> 
> (also i have a tumblr where i occasionally talk too much in the tags, check it out if you're that kind of nerd: ichibanpulcherrima.tumblr.com)
> 
> (also i'm writing a bunch of other things and stressing myself out about posting them but i think i'm gonna dO IT so um stick around if you like ereri or jearmin and possibly jeanmarco because i'm multishipping trash)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teen drinking is very bad

Friday came and went, and then it was Saturday night, and Eren had no idea how he should show up to this party. Jean said he was dressing up, but that was Jean. His normal clothes would be fine, right?

He sighed. Obviously it wasn’t the same, but he wished he had something that caught Armin’s attention the way, well, any of Armin’s clothing caught his. But if there was anything he sucked at more than studying, it was choosing clothing. He made sure the clothes he chose were clean, at least.

Marco had gone early at the request of Jean, so Eren was heading over by himself. It was still fairly early—about 10:30—but this time, when he arrived, there was already music pounding through the hall. He could hear voices, too, loud ones. He pushed Krista’s door open only to be further bombarded with noise.

“ _Baby, I don't need dollar bills to have fun tonight_ _,”_ Armin was there too, screeching along with what looked like the entire cheer squad. “ _I don't need no money_ _\--_ ”

Mina, who Eren didn’t know very well but had heard lots about from Armin and Krista, noticed him enter first. Her eyes immediately went wide, and she yelled, “Eren’s here!”

If there was anything he’d never experienced in high school, it was an entire team of cheerleaders screaming his name enthusiastically. He was more than a little startled, but smiled anyway. He noticed Mina nudge Armin in the side; most of the team was smirking a little.

“Happy Birthday, Armin,” he tried, but the music was too loud for him to be heard, really.

“Guess you’ll have to go up and whisper it in his ear,”

Eren jumped at Jean’s sudden appearance next to his shoulder, speaking directly into his ear over the music. Jean grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. His hair was dark this time, long, loose curls, and his lips were dark, too. His eyes had some light sparkly stuff around them and heavy eyeliner. He hadn’t been kidding about wanting to blind people. His dress was shimmering white and skin-tight again, and he was wearing sparkly heels that made him taller than Eren or Marco.

“You look nice,” Eren told him.

Jean just rolled his eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself, Brad, I know you only have eyes for your princess Angelina over there,” He smirked again. “He looks cute tonight, right? You can thank me later.”

Eren couldn’t argue with him, honestly. Armin was wearing a crop top that exposed a wide stripe of pale midriff that Eren was doing his best not to look at. He’d rather not go into cardiac arrest before even speaking to Armin that night.

“Don’t just stand there, Brad, hop on that!” Jean said briskly.

_Easier said than done_ , Eren couldn’t help thinking, but Jean was right. He had to wish Armin a happy birthday, at the very least. He set about wading his way through the loud, giggling, generously perfumed group of cheerleaders to where Armin was. Armin smiled at him initially, but his eyes widened slightly as Eren leaned down to speak to him.

“Happy birthday, Armin,” Eren said the words directly into his ear, taking Jean’s advice. He pulled away, slightly pleased to see Armin’s cheeks bright red.

“Thanks!” He answered, just as Krista turned the music down to a more reasonable level. She shushed a few people, with a mischievous grin on her face that was more than a little worrisome.

“Okay, okay, as you all know, it’s our beloved Armin’s birthday—” She paused to allow the cheer squad to scream a little. “So, the team got you a little something!”

“Oh my God, you guys, you really didn’t have to—” Armin cut himself off with an impressive scream of his own when what looked like a narrow brown box was shoved into his hands. There was some gold writing across the front, but otherwise it looked entirely unremarkable.

Marco had entered the party a few minutes after Eren, so he shot him a questioning look, but Marco just shrugged. Jean, however, said, “It’s the new Naked palette.”

“The what?”

“It’s a makeup palette.” When Eren continued to look confused, Jean sighed again. “It’s eyeshadow. Expensive eyeshadow.”

It was a good thing Eren hadn’t tried to pick out a gift on his own, after all. Wasn’t ‘palette’ usually used to refer to paint, anyway?

“And in addition to that—if you please, Mina,” Krista was continuing. Mina dug something out of her bag that even Eren could recognize—a handle of tequila.

Krista’s eyes glittered in a way that made Eren immediately understand Armin’s warning about giving her power. “All right, everyone, how about some birthday body shots?”

Armin choked. “Krista?!”

She winked at him. “Have a seat, birthday boy,” She shoved him down by the shoulders. “How about a demonstration, hm?”

She then pushed him down so he was laying flat on the couch, the rest of the cheerleading squad cheering as she climbed into his lap.

“So you balance the shot here,” she said, placing a shot glass on his navel. “We sprinkle a little salt here,” Eren swallowed as she put a pinch of salt just below his navel. “And place the lime here for safekeeping.” She picked up the lime, smirking. “Open your mouth, sweetie.”

Eren was pretty sure he was going to pass out as Krista placed the lime between Armin’s pink lips.

“Okay, here we go! Ready? Okay!” Krista chirped. She then leaned over Armin’s stomach, licked the trail of salt up to his navel, and took the shot glass in her lips, throwing it back smoothly. Sitting in his lap, she leaned over his face and took the lime from his mouth, lips just barely brushing his. The cheer team was going wild.

“All right, line up, ladies!” She said, smiling innocently.

“I am nowhere near drunk enough for this,” Jean declared, suddenly at Eren’s side again. He grabbed a bottle off a nearby table. “Looks like you could use a drink too, Brad.”

Eren took the offered bottle gratefully, watching Mina sit on Armin’s lap next, showily reapplying her lipstick. He took a sip, then promptly spit almost half of it out as he was nearly blinded by a flash.

“Jean, what the fuck?” Jean had apparently snapped a photo on his phone.

“Oh, come on, I couldn’t help myself.”

Eren then realized he was drinking from a bottle of Jaegermeister. He set it down in disgust. “I’m not drinking that.”

“Awww, should I get something a little weaker for you, Brad?” Jean smirked, raising an eyebrow while knocking back a swig of vodka from the handle. “Your tummy can’t handle it?”

Unfortunately, Eren knew a challenge when he saw one. Plus, he was German, he could hold his liquor with the best of them. He looked Jean in the eye and swallowed a good quarter of the bottle in one go. And then another. And then the last half.

And not too long after, Eren recalled that although he was German, so was Jaegermeister. Yeah, shit.

It probably didn’t really matter, though. It was pushing half past eleven and everyone was getting a little messy, or as the song in the background declared, “everybody in the club gettin’ tipsy.” Jean seemed to be the devil’s advocate that night, as he pointed out the fatal flaw of birthday body shots—Armin wasn’t getting enough tequila. It was then decided that for each member who successfully took a body shot, Armin had to have one as well.

Armin had turned red and started giggling seven people ago, and only three of them had been successful. Krista’s voice had already jumped an octave, and Ymir had a protective hand on her lower back as her girlfriend gestured emphatically.

Marco was whining, “I wanna do a body shot too!” Eren raised an eyebrow at him, which ended up being a bad idea, as Marco was drunk and bigger than him.

“Oi, Jaeger, get over here, you frosh piece of shit,” Marco grinned, suddenly sounding remarkably like Reiner.

“You’re a freshman too,” Eren said, confused.

“Shut the fuck up,” Marco huffed. “Sit down and take off your shirt.”

That seemed like an odd request to Eren, but not odd enough not to do. He pulled his shirt over his head obediently and sat down, vaguely registering catcalls from what sounded like Sasha and Connie.

“We’re doing a body shot, lay down,” Marco commanded. Marco was awfully bossy tonight, but Eren wasn’t in much of a fighting mood, funny enough. He grinned lazily and laid back, arms behind his head. He felt something sprinkled on his stomach, and couldn’t stop himself from laughing a bit—it tickled.

“Oh my _God_ , is Eren—? Quick, get off me,” Eren heard from across the room.

“Was that Armin?” He asked curiously.

“That was Armin!” Armin said, his pink face coming into view above Eren, smiling widely. Armin’s eyes slid away from Eren’s face, and he bit his lip. Eren stopped breathing.

He felt his stomach tense under the light touch of Marco’s tongue, and the weight on his navel disappear, but couldn’t take his eyes from Armin, even as he glimpsed from his peripheral Marco take a lime from Jean’s mouth.

“I think I wanna do a body shot too,” Eren heard himself say, sitting up.

“Well, you’re not on the cheer team, but I think we can make an exception!” Krista chirped. “Armin, get back here!”

Armin sat up ramrod straight, then turned away from Eren and hurried back to the couch he’d been sitting on. Eren sat up. He was pretty sure he’d had a shirt on at some point.

“Marco, have you seen my shirt?” He turned around just in time to see Marco’s hand on Jean’s hip, muttering something in his ear that had Jean, for once, silent, turning a bright cherry-red. Yeah, Eren didn’t want any part of that.

“Get over here, Brad!” Krista screeched.

He tore his eyes from Marco and Jean, and ambled over to Krista, feeling much more relaxed than he had before in the crowd of cheerleaders. He smiled down at her. “Okay, what do I do?”

“Weren’t you paying attention before?” She said briskly, like an exasperated teacher. Eren blinked, surprised at her tone. “Oh, whatever, just try your best. I’m sure nobody will mind if you need a second try.”

Armin was laying down there, hands over his face, giggling again. Eren wanted to see his eyes. He ran his finger under Armin’s navel experimentally, asking, “The salt goes here, right?”

Armin’s hands went to cover his mouth at that, squeaking.

“Yeah, move so I can sprinkle some.” Krista smirked. Armin’s white stomach tensed again as she put an ample amount of salt there, then expertly balanced the shotglass. “All yours.”

What a view—Eren leaned over Armin’s hips, an elbow on either side, so he could glance up and take in the soft planes of his stomach, the gentle slopes of his chest, ribs stuttering every now and then with laughter. And _shit_ , Eren wondered as he leaned over Armin’s stomach, what if he _laughed_ during sex? Little giggles that turned into moans? Soft laughter that Eren would feel from down here, between Armin’s legs? He could hardly dare to hope.

He looked up again, only to meet Armin’s eyes, wide and soft and the polar opposite of frightening, in that moment. Eren smiled easily, and Armin bit his lip again, so Eren looked away, back to business.

He started as close to Armin’s waistband as possible—didn’t want to miss any of the salt, of course. He could feel the flinch and flex of Armin’s stomach under his tongue; he slowed down a little, since who knew when he’d get another chance like this? He ran his tongue softly up to where the shot glass lay, then around the front half, just in case. The shot was easy enough, and then, of course, the lime.

Armin’s hands had curled against the cushions. He held the lime between his teeth, in an easily accessible way, Eren realized with some disappointment. Armin’s eyes burned up into his when Eren crawled up his body, a little more like his normal self. Eren could feel his heart pounding somewhere around his temples; he leaned in to take the lime from between Armin’s teeth.

He felt the sour bite of it for a split second, and then it moved away with a soft movement of Armin’s mouth, so Eren leaned in a little further, chapped lips brushing against impossibly soft ones for a moment, _damn_ , he just wanted to add a little pressure, maybe search for the lime with his tongue, but—there it was. He snagged the lime between his own teeth, and pulled away.

Armin’s eyes were an odd mixture of soft and frightening, marine blue, and Eren could feel his gaze deep in his stomach, which— _right—_ was still naked and bare for some reason. He couldn’t help but smile hopefully back again, praying that Armin ignored his especially fuckboy-ish state, shirtless in basketball shorts.

He wished he were smarter so he could invent more reasons to kind-of kiss Armin. Or maybe even actually kiss him.

“All right, all right, you really have been a drunk slut tonight,” Krista huffed from their side. “But you owe me a dance, bitch.”

“Shut up,” Armin said, not taking his eyes off Eren.

“Come _on_ ,” Krista whined. “There’s a table over there just waiting for us!”

Neither Armin nor Eren moved.

“Come _on_!”

“Okay, okay,” Armin was suddenly giggling again, and gave Eren the most curious of looks before going to Krista’s side.

Another good reason to be smarter, to decipher all Armin’s wordless communication. Eren slumped against the couch, running a hand through his hair. It was getting a little long. His hair was getting long, and the music was getting loud, insisting that he “turn down for what.” He still wasn’t sure what that meant.

He threw one hand over the back of the couch, looking over his shoulder.

Well, if he’d had a semi before, he was now standing at full attention, alcohol be damned. Take that, Jaegermeister. Yeah, his German dick was strong. What was he talking about again?

Oh, right, turning down for what. Apparently Armin knew what that was. And he could do it on a table. With Krista. Fuck. Eren hadn’t known that hips could move in that many directions. Armin was _low_ , and his ass was doing unholy things in Krista’s groin area; Eren could see the smooth flex of his thighs from where he sat. Krista was acting like a frat boy after his turn with the keg, whooping and making obscene gestures and running her hands up and down Armin’s back.

The song changed, and damn if Eren didn’t start sweating when Armin slowed down, his hips moving just as smoothly, but more tortuously. Eren could just picture that perfect, slow grind in his lap—yeah, he wanted Armin to ride him, so he could see his face when he bit his lip, watch his stomach contract, and take his ass in both hands as he moved. His stomach looked beautiful in that crop top when he moved like that; though hardly muscular, you could tell he was fit. You could tell he’d be able to hold himself up if you wanted him to ride you, rolling his hips so you could get deeper with each thrust, tensing his stomach beautifully when you rubbed his precome on to it—

Eren was more than drunk enough to consider taking care of himself in the bathroom, if things got any worse. Or better, really. He had enough spank bank material for the next year, give or take. Maybe he should just quit while he was ahead. Watching Armin dance, he couldn't help thinking about how somehow a body that could move like _that_ housed a brain that moved faster and more efficiently than his ever could, all behind a face like a painting of fucking cherub?

Meanwhile Eren was scruffy at best, usually stank from the gym, and had considerable trouble with menial mental tasks. He was a German taken down by a bottle of Jaeger who always lost to Marco at FIFA, god _dammit_. No matter how many times he almost-kissed Armin, or listened to him talk about books and nod enthusiastically, or fumble around the topics of gender and sexuality, did he really have a chance?

Well, whether he had a chance or not, he had to piss. He roughly rubbed a hand over his face, getting up from the couch and stumbling over the bathroom.

He was washing his hands, sobering up a little, when the door slammed behind him. He huffed out a sigh. If that was Jean again, he was going to—

It was Armin.

Shit, it was Armin. More importantly, it was slightly _sweaty_ Armin, color high in his cheeks, chest rising and falling as his breath came a little faster than usual. His lower lip tensed against his upper lip for a moment before he breathed out a soft, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Eren grinned again, just happy that they were getting even a moment alone.

Armin’s eyes moved from Eren’s face downward, and Eren was once more reminded that he still hadn’t found his shirt. He ran a bashful hand through his hair. “Sorry about… Yeah, I realize I look like even more of a fuckboy right now, huh?”

“It’s okay,” Armin’s voice was still soft. His eyes met Eren’s again, a little mischievous. “Krista always calls me a drunk slut, but that’s probably exactly what I looked like just now, too, right?”

“You looked great,” Eren said honestly.

Armin bit his lip, hiding a pleased smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Eren was briefly distracted by a bead of sweat on Armin’s pretty, pretty neck, enough to say, “You’re an amazing dancer.”

“Do you want to dance?”

“Fuck, no,” He laughed. “I’m terrible.”

“I’ll teach you,” Armin offered.

“I could never move like you, seriously.”

“And how do I move, exactly?”

Eren wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He was usually honest, especially when drunk, but saying “like you’d make an incredible fuck” probably wouldn’t be the best thing, right?

He’d just be honest, he decided. “I don’t know how to answer that question without sounding offensive.”

“Oh my God, Eren,” Armin threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ve been told I dance like a stripper more than enough times to not be offended.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” he protested.

“Gosh, you’re so cute,” Armin giggled. “I’m sorry I always put you on the spot with questions like that, it’s just that you look so lost, it’s hilarious…”

“Who are you calling cute?” Eren said mock-angrily.

“You, Brad. You’re a cutie patootie.”

“I prefer words like ‘manly,’ or ‘chiseled,’ if you’re going to compliment me.”

“I suppose those apply, too,” Armin’s eyes were so clear and blue, but when had they gotten so close? He had some sparkly stuff on his eyelids like Jean, but it was so much more captivating around his bright, excited eyes, under that blonde halo of hair. Eren couldn’t seem to stop himself from leaning in further, and Armin’s eyes started to close—

He froze.

Armin’s eyes opened again after a minute, squinting up at Eren. His cheeks were still bright red. “Eren.”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to kiss me, or did I misjudge that?”

Eren swallowed. “Are you drunk?”

Armin huffed. “Kind of. Answer my question.”

“…What question was that?”

“ _Are you going to kiss me_?”

Eren didn’t know how to answer again. His panic must have shown on his face, because Armin sighed.

“No offense, but that face is less cute right now.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Eren choked out.

“No, Eren, I just danced on a table for Jean and then trapped _him_ in the bathroom,” He snapped. “Shit, I’m going to need a lot more tequila to forget this.”

“So you want me to kiss you?”

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Armin’s eyes were immediately sharp. “What more do you want from me? Yes, Eren, I _wanted_ you to kiss me.”

“Because I want to kiss you,” the words came out in a rush, almost before Armin had finished.

The sharpness in Armin’s expression softened slightly. “What?”

“I really, really want to kiss you,” Eren repeated. “But, you’re drunk, and my sister always told me that drunk people can’t say yes in, like, these kinds of situations, so I thought maybe I should wait until you’re sober to kiss you, but then I don’t know if you’ll want to kiss me anymore—”

“Oh my God,” Armin muttered. Eren stopped babbling, nervous.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Armin repeated. But some of the mirth had returned to his face, Eren realized with no small amount of relief. “Are you telling me right now, Brad, that you’re worried you don’t have my _consent_?”

“That sounds right,” he answered anxiously. He’d been within kissing distance when he’d heard the no-nonsense, forty-minute-lecture-voice of his sister after he’d stumbled home from another party, telling him that ‘intoxicated people cannot give consent,’ and ‘I _hope_ you remembered that before you put your tongue down that girl’s throat, Eren, because so help me God I will castrate you,’ and other things that were a bit of a buzzkill.

“I think I need to sit down,” Armin said faintly, and then did just that, on the bathroom floor, closing his eyes. Eren sat down next to him.

“I’m sorry, I just want to make sure you don’t, you know, hate me later…”

“Eren, you are _ruining_ my birthday.”

“I’m trying not to ruin it!” He protested. “It’s just that—you’re so _smart_ , and so pretty, and I don’t want you to regret—”

Armin’s voice was suddenly severe. “Eren, I’m a nerdy gay guy who wears makeup and dances like stripper with a big tipper. You, on the other hand, are the hot rugby player who is supposed to be straight, dammit, but keeps smiling at me like you want to hold my hand or something equally ludicrous and I just hate it, do you understand? Your stupid fucking smile and your _fucking arms_ make me want to cry, and I hate it.”

“My arms?”

“Look, I can’t even wrap my hand around it, holy fuck,” Armin practically whimpered, reaching out and gripping Eren’s bicep. “And your _thighs_ . Your leg day at the gym is my day of worship. And now I find out that you care about _consent_? Are you real?”

“I think so?”

“Just to make things clear, Eren,” he began again. “I’m really not that drunk, and I’m quite sure I’ve wanted to kiss you much longer than you’ve wanted to kiss me.”

Eren was silent.

“And now I really, really want to,” Armin opened his eyes again. “And it would be cool if we could do other stuff, too. Like get Panera without Jean coming along, or see a movie, or something.”

“Really?” Eren breathed.

“Yeah, really,” He snorted. “Would you want to go out sometime?”

“Yeah,” Eren nodded. “Yeah, I would.”

“Cool. Now that that’s all out in the open, do you think that qualifies as consent for just one little kiss? Without a lime in the way?”

“Okay,” He was already leaning in, and this time, when his lips met Armin’s, he felt zero urge to pull away, because _shit_ , his lips were so soft, even better than he’d imagined. He sucked on his lower lip, gently pulling it between his teeth, and Armin hummed softly in response. He tasted a little sweet, like chapstick. Armin moved closer, and Eren meant to innocently lay a hand on his back, only to meet with smooth, bare skin and the edge of his cropped shirt. He could feel Armin smile a little against his mouth, and then his soft hands on his—right, bare shoulders. He inhaled a little, only to feel the first, warm touch of Armin’s tongue, a little fruity from so many limes and chasers.

Fuck, he was finally kissing Armin, _properly_ kissing him, and it was just them, even though they could still hear laughter and music outside the door. All Eren could think of was Armin, who was moving closer again, almost in Eren’s lap now. Eren ran his tongue along Armin’s, then, catching his lips again, used a little more teeth, and Armin made such a vulnerable, pretty sound that Eren couldn’t resist pulling him even closer, running his hands up his smooth back. Armin, too, ran his hands down Eren’s chest, and that was when Eren remembered—

“Armin, no, we shouldn’t,” he whispered. They had to stop, especially before he got hard again and embarrassed himself.

Armin pulled an impressively long-suffering expression. “It’s my _birthday_ , Eren.”

“I know, but—”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch you in the gym?” Armin ran a hand down and back up Eren’s chest, stopping at his shoulders.

“I know what it’s like to watch you dance,” Eren muttered.

Armin brightened. “Well, if you won’t give me a one little kiss, you could at least dance with me—”

Eren groaned, and pulled Armin close again, a little harder, and Armin made a sound of appreciation against his lips.

Eren couldn’t help but get caught up in the moment, and not at all in the way he expected. He’d only hooked up with people in the past, and it had always been rushed, a little frantic—because he didn’t much care for the person, and was horny.

But this was so _nice,_ underwhelming though the word was. Just being close to Armin was _nice_. Feeling his moisturized lips get stuck on Eren’s chapped ones, rubbing his thumbs in little circles on Armin’s back, feeling the contented sighs Armin made through little puffs of air from his nose. Tasting his warm, wet tongue in slow doses. Armin’s hands looped comfortably around his shoulders, and every now and then he hummed another one of those quiet, pretty sounds. He broke away for a minute to hug Armin close and kiss his way down his neck, and Armin laughed a little, mumbling, “You taste like Jaeger.”

“I am Jaeger,” Eren mumbled back, and he could feel and hear Armin giggle again.

“That was awful.”

Eren just grinned into Armin’s neck, pressing a few more kisses into it and moving toward his collarbone. “Your fucking neck drives me nuts.”

“My _neck?_ ”

“You always wear those, you know, big shirts with the loose collars. That time when your hair was up I thought I was done for.”

“You mean when I came out of cheer practice and you were working out like the star of some soft porno?”

Eren threw his head back and laughed. “You're kidding me.”

“Don't you remember how I couldn't get a single word out in front of you?”

“I thought you were mad at me for some reason.”

Armin snorted. “I'm a pretty vocal person, Eren, you'd have known if I was mad.”

“Vocal, huh?” He grinned up at him again, and Armin’s eyes sparkled mischievously back at him.

“Yeah, there are times when I can get a little loud… You'll have to shut me up.”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Armin,” Eren groaned, pulling him down for another kiss. He'd thought Armin had been driving him insane before, but knowing his personality, that would be nothing compared to what was coming.

And speaking of coming, getting carried away in the bathroom like this was sounding better and better. Now that he had satisfied the better part of his conscience (aka the phantom voice of his sister), it was easier to forget that he wanted to take Armin out first, firmly establish that he wanted more than a hookup. It was _really_ easy to forget that when their kiss seemed to deepen naturally and Eren could feel the unbearable softness of Armin’s stomach against his. He meant to pull Armin in by the hips, but his hands accidentally ended up firmly planted on his ass, and sweet God his hands were _full_. Armin groaned quietly against his mouth, and then bit Eren’s lower lip in a way that had him grinding roughly upwards. Armin's hips moved in a perfect circle down against his, and right, why weren't they hooking up in the bathroom again? Armin's tongue tasted fruity and a little bitter from the flavored shots, and whenever they coordinated their rhythm especially well he'd mutter out “oh, _fuck,”_ in a voice that Eren could listen to forever. He was losing his mind, especially remembering what he'd come to the bathroom for, to possibly beat one off to the idea of Armin dancing, and now Armin was sitting in his lap and moving so perfectly and moaning--

They both jumped at a loud pounding on the door of the bathroom.

“Will you open up?! I gotta piss!”

Eren swore, dropping his head against Armin’s shoulder.

Armin's hands rubbed his shoulders affectionately. “Sounds like we should probably get out of here.”

“Probably,” Eren agreed reluctantly.

“We should do this again sometime,” Armin’s voice was teasing.

“Yeah, and I--I’d like to do other stuff, too.”

Armin raised his eyebrows at that, and Eren spluttered. “Not like that! I mean, like, go on dates and stuff.”

“I know, I was just kidding,” he smiled, getting up. “So do you think I could convince you to dance now?”

“If I wasn't drunk enough to dance an hour ago, I don't think I'll ever be, Armin.”

They opened the door to see a very irritated-looking Jean, who pushed past them quickly into the bathroom and slammed the door after him.

“ _Wait a minute_!” Jean suddenly shrieked from behind the door, and Eren jumped. He and Armin paused, and about 30 seconds later Jean threw the door open again and pointed accusingly at Armin.

“Don't tell me--” he looked from Armin to Eren. “Bradgelina is official?”

Eren looked quickly down at Armin, and found his own hopeful expression reflected back at him. Eren raised his eyebrows in question and Armin nodded enthusiastically.

“You know, Jean, if it wasn't, that would've been really awkward,” Armin huffed at him, but couldn't hide his broad grin.

“I knew you’d get him, you fucking skank!” Jean screeched, and for a minute Eren wasn’t sure who he was talking to until he swept Armin up into a hug.

“Put me down, Jean! God, you’re so embarrassing!”

“Guys! Guys, Bradgelina is official!” Jean immediately powered out to where the party was still raging, grabbing hold of Krista and yelling the news into her ear. Krista started screaming, coming and dragging Eren out of Armin’s grasp with a surprisingly strong hand.

It was contagious. Eren was still very sure that he’d never get used to having a squad of cheerleaders screaming about anything regarding him. He probably should get used to it, though, if he was going to be dating Armin.

He was going to be dating Armin.

He looked over, and met Armin’s eyes, looking back at him with equal happiness. Armin pushed aside his friends and took Eren’s hand again, so sweetly Eren was pretty sure his heart broke. And honestly, he couldn’t think of a better way to end the evening.

… So of course, everyone made them take several more shots each.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been 5ever since the last update?? in a classic me fashion i am still not satisfied with this chapter completely but waiting so long between updates is just evil so i'm trying to get my ass in shape, and also school and graduating and preparing to be a real person, all of these things are scary, so uh, bear with me
> 
> thanks for stopping by <3


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